I Write for the Love of It

And because I don't need another chore

Photo by Matthew LeJune on Unsplash

I’m having a writer's voice crisis.

Struggling with shifting to telling stories from the power of “I” and not have it sound like a Dear Diary entry.

Why do I even want to write? How do I even want to write?

I write to get clear about who I am in life. So I can reach a level of Enlightenment that I can be satisfied with. Even if I don’t reach Jesus level of Enlightenment. I want to reach a level so I can enjoy life. In Joy.

I write to get clear about where I am in life. It’s a daily reminder of why I’m even here. To grow. To expand. To share. To inspire. To break the code. Climb out of the sick controlling mind we live under. My mind. The mind of the greater consciousness.

I write because I want to be an inspirer. I want to wake up to life and I want to help others wake up. I want to channel the wisdom from the ethers that is the message I’m supposed to be sharing. I want to share my take on things so those who are supposed to read it will say, “Oh my god! That’s so me!”

What about the money

I write because I crave unfolding my visions. And my visions need money and resources. I see writing as putting my energy out there. Playing the lottery. You have to buy a ticket to win. I see putting myself out there with my writing as opening up opportunities for the Law of Attraction to have a bigger playing field. More entry points to show up and flow in.

I love adventure. I want to have the money to travel. I want to see the beauty and experience the richness of different cultures. When I go on vacation, I want it to really feel like I’m on vacation. Freedom. Relaxation. Instead of just a different setting for me to feel anxiety and pressure of life to get all the chores done and needs taken care of. I want to feel a level of happiness. Peace. Joy at home in the mundane so I can carry that awe with me in my travels.

Writing to connect

I don’t want my writing to consume my life. I don’t want to live in front of a screen looking out the window. I want to be out the window. Outside. Gardening. Swimming. Hiking. Taking care of small livestock. Chickens. Maybe goats. Living the experiences that are worth writing about.

I write to form authentic bonds with others who are physically worlds away. The ultimate gift of the internet.

The voice in my head. I consider this upbeat, encouraging voice God. She is telling me I need to stop trying so hard. Relax and write for me. Write for me and her. And see what happens.

I started breathwork recently and I notice myself holding my breath a lot. And when I catch myself doing this I realize I do not feel connected to anything. I’m lost in my head, holding my breath. I write to breathe and breathe to write.

Imposter Syndrome

If imposter syndrome were considered a mental illness, I would have a severe to profound case of it.

I’m weary from reading about how to make your millions online. It’s exhausting. I don’t care if my millions come from writing online. I care about making my millions. So I can feed the causes to help raise others up. Because others are a part of the same juice of life. You are me and I am you. Housed in different bodies and hiding behind different personalities.

I especially want to help the kids. I have a huge heart for kids. I gravitate toward them at social events. I love their energy. Their excitement for life. They haven’t been beaten down by the ego yet. And the ones that have been, they are the ones I want to help nurture and shower with love so they can heal quickly and bring their inspiration to keep the light growing.

Final thought

So here I am at 627 word count. I’ve been told I need to write 1000 words for a good story. Or 800 at least. Somewhere in the 600s seems to be my easy spot at the moment. The place where the flow of thoughts end. If I keep trying to milk it, I end up spending days writing one story instead of just hours. So I’ll leave it at this.

I wish you the highest and best day and life you are here to live.